


Grief

by Gizmothecat



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Loss, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizmothecat/pseuds/Gizmothecat
Summary: Emily confronts her mother about missing her funeral.
Kudos: 9





	Grief

Emily stole herself for a moment. The question had been caught in her throat since the Ambassador had stepped through the BAU doors three days ago. She hadn’t seen her in person since 2007, the last time she had needed her daughter’s help. Now the case was finished, the Ambassador was ready to stroll right out the same door again.

The words tumbled out of her, “why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

Elizabeth paused. She turned slightly, not so much that she could make eye contact but so she could see her. “Please, Emily, I barely knew Robert Parkins. I know he meant a lot to your father, but I barely know him either anymore.”

“Not his.”

“Then who’s?” But she knew exactly what her daughter was talking about.

“Mine.”

Emily swallowed hard as her vision began to blur. The question had plagued her for years by this point. They weren’t close – she had long accepted that – but surely being her daughter counted for something? If only to save face, surely, she would have attended her own child’s funeral. Neither of her parents had attended. None of her family, in fact, except those she had chosen and a cousin she hadn’t seen since she was small. JJ had reluctantly told her so.

Elizabeth met her eyes. “Dear, you’re not dead.”

The catch in her throat betrayed her emotions, “but you didn’t know that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The silence spread between them. The ghost of their relationship brought a chill to the air. Emily wasn’t even sure what she wanted of the woman. Had she ever been? At this point she needed so much but wanted so little the hole would probably never be filled. Every second which passed drilled the hurt in deeper than she’d ever thought was possible.

“Mother, why didn’t you come?”

Every dance recital, science fair, graduation, and birthday party slapped Emily across the face so hard she almost flinched. Standing in the spotlight scanning the crowds for a face which was never there. Sometimes in her dreams she still searched for that elusive maternal figure. Always waiting.

“I couldn’t.”

And this response she had heard a million times: _I couldn’t, I was busy_ ; _I couldn’t get away_ ; _I couldn’t today, next time, dear_. It was always the same. Emily chuckled without humour. Her tears hung in her eyes as stubbornly as the woman herself. She would not cry.

“You _couldn’t_.” Emily began moving her hollow body towards the door. There would be no closure here, no solace, no warmth. But for the first time, she could truly say she was done. “Why did I expect anything different?”

Elizabeth watched the shape of her grown daughter disappear down the corridor and out of sight. Her throat burned and her eyes stung, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor of this federal building. She could never admit the truth. She could never admit that the moment she put down the phone her sob had torn her in half. The walls had crumbled, the floor quaked with inextinguishable loss. She couldn’t remember how she had dragged her body to the bed like she was crawling over infected glass. The woman, strong and proud, hadn’t left her bed for such a time that when her assistant had eventually forced her to, she had lost half a stone and was dangerously dehydrated. How could she tell her daughter that her grief had put her in the ER? Or that by the time she had even considered a funeral it was nearly three weeks too late?

When her child had risen from the ground she had tried to reach out. Three times a day for six weeks she would reach for the phone and return it again, undialed. But her pain still hung over her like a guillotine. She’d kept the executioner at bay. Elizabeth would never survive him a second time.

She swallowed hard, folded her grief back into its box, and tucked it away out of sight. The carefully manicured image painted on her shell regained its spark. The day her daughter died so too had she.

But unlike Emily, there had been no resurrection.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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